


花吐き病

by infinitefalltohell



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: A lot of references to fanfiction/fiction, Angst with a Happy Ending, Focused on Matsuda, Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, Hope, Kind of fluff towards the end, M/M, Not Beta Read, That needs to be a seperate tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26175409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitefalltohell/pseuds/infinitefalltohell
Summary: 'He had emotions so strong, yet a heart so weak, that his heart’s desire had expressed itself in the form of black rose petals.'In which, Matsuda Touta has Hanahaki, a tragic disease that comes from the object (person) of one's affections.
Relationships: L/Matsuda Touta
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	花吐き病

Hanahaki was a disease so incredibly rare, so beautifully tragic, that many did not believe of its existence. Many believed it to be a romantic story trope, a disease that fanfiction writers manipulated to their will. To many, this tragic disease was a romanticised nightmare, however, to a rare few, it was a heartbreaking reality. 

Matsuda Touta was one of those rare few. For someone who was average in almost every aspect, the fact that one of the few rarities he had was unrequited love in its most devastating form? That was both shocking and heartbreaking for the optimistic young man, who relied on hope as his only saviour for many situations. No matter how many times he tried to tell himself that he could rely on hope once more, internally, he knew that he couldn’t rely on his own luck anymore, that he had to give up.

It was midnight when he coughed up the first petal.

“No…” he whispered shakily; a black petal laid in his gentle hands. Matsuda was in disbelief; he was in a state one could only describe as devastation. 

Before that moment, Matsuda believed that Hanahaki was something of fiction, a tragic fantasy which only came alive in manga and movies. Matsuda had believed Hanahaki to be something of fruition, something he rarely pondered upon. However, at that moment, he doubted everything he had ever thought and said in regards to the tragedy. Before, he had been much like everyone else around him, however, he was now a minority in the worst of ways. He remembered all the days he had wished he wasn’t the way he was, all the days he wished he was special, however, he thought that perhaps fate had twisted his words and created an entirely different meaning to them.

The devastation one would feel as they coughed out the first petal was unmistakable; it simply couldn’t be taken for anything else. Hanahaki was a disease of emotion, of sorrow, of love, not something similar to a cold or a fever, which was only associated with frustration. Matsuda stroked the first petal gently, saddened by the petal which in any other circumstance would’ve been something of beauty.

“Am I going to die?” Was the first thing he whispered, his voice not registering in his mind as he spoke. He exhaled deeply, allowing the black petal to fall from shaking hands.

“I have an unrequited love? I didn’t know I was in love…” He looked to the night sky, to the high rises and skyscrapers that stood higher than one’s problems ever could. He attempted to hold back the tears that sprung in his eyes, however, he failed, and they slowly fell down his fair cheeks. He let out a strangling sob, choking on his own tears, allowing another flower to fall from plump lips. 

“Is this the end? Or do I have hope?” His voice was weak, as if he had given up after a long battle, despite this night only being the beginning. As he laid down atop his unmade bed, tears falling, he contemplated, and allowed his mind to race, which was never a good idea. He was anxious for all the things that were going to happen. Most representations of Hanahaki were gruesome, horrifying pictures of blood stained flowers filling up the throat of an overemotional protagonist. Surely that couldn’t be his fate? Surely the actuality of Hanahaki wasn’t as horrifying as one precepted it to be?

Only the following months would tell.

The next morning had arisen, and the grief slapped Matsuda like a hurricane as he coughed up yet another petal, and it fell to his lap as if it were a feather. Matsuda bit his lip, resisting the tears that were about to fall from innocent eyes. He was not ill because of his own incompetence, nor because of the winter season, but because of the feelings of another. Because he loved, and they did not love in return. 

He had emotions so strong, yet a heart so weak, that his heart’s desire had expressed itself in the form of black rose petals. 

Matsuda still did not know who this love was, no, he didn’t have the time to identify such emotions, instead, he focused on friendships and on acquaintanceships. However, this singular factor changed everything. However, Matsuda wasn’t someone who liked change. He felt safe with familiarity, when things changed, he wasn’t as safe suddenly. 

“Matsuda-san!” Matsuda looked up from his desk, it was early into the afternoon and he was unfocused, his attention wavering from the dark thoughts in his mind to the world around him. 

“Can you make me some tea please?” Matsuda nodded, standing up from his seat and walking to the kitchen silently, a trait which was considered out of character for someone with his liveliness and energy. However, no one took notice, as they were all too immersed in their own work in order to pay attention to him. 

Matsuda was still optimistic, despite the circumstances which had unfolded themselves onto him. Maybe he would get over them? Maybe he could have the surgery done if that didn’t work? He didn’t even know who the person was after all, surely, he could move on? Did he want to move on? He wouldn’t know until he found them, he supposed. There was no point in making decisions then and there.

He thought idly about L, the man who had asked for tea not so long ago. L was an enigma, in Matsuda’s mind, L was a puzzle he could never hope to have the capacity to solve. L was the one person who Matsuda could care for more than on a surface level. With others, he could shrug off their words easily, with others, he could accept that they didn’t want his help. However, with L, things were different. He cared for what L had to say, he cared for L’s reactions, he looked for responses, he looked for things he would’ve never cared to look for in anyone else. As Matsuda placed L’s sugar cubes in, seven of them, five in a pentagon sequence on the edge, one in the middle and another one on top of the middle one already there, he thought. He asked himself questions. Hanahaki… how would he be able to tell? Would he be relieved? Or would he be saddened?

He took L’s tea to him and placed it on top of the coaster carefully, hands behind his back, waiting for a response. L took the tea and sipped it, almost humming when he put the cup back down onto the coaster below. 

“The tea is a little hot…” Matsuda was dismayed, however, he attempted to keep a small smile. He didn’t know why he was so affected by L’s criticisms, surely, he should be used to them? With every criticism he got, he was only more hurt, and he was only more saddened. His attempts of hope only dwindled more.

“However, the sugar placement is flawless. Well done Matsuda-san.” Matsuda’s eyes lit up and he smiled wider, bowing before walking back to his desk. He had done something right! In his eyes, that praise was like no other. It was so rare that he did something right, and that when he did, he would be met with the appropriate praise. Especially coming from L, Matsuda didn’t know it yet, but his heart warmed at the thought of L recognising his efforts. L, who had so much to do, and so little time to it, would focus his attention on him for a mere minute? The thought send flutters to Matsuda’s stomach, though he hadn’t recognised what those flutters meant yet.

Matsuda coughed into his hand and crumpled the petal inside it, his eyes darting across the room to search for those who may have seen something.

No one noticed, no one ever did. They only noticed the idiotic and the foolish, but never the sorrow-filled.

Another cough, another petal.

Matsuda sat alone at his computer, mouse in his right hand, the fingers of his left hand resting on the keyboard. He sighed as the petals fell, they were like feathers, he swore.

“Another petal, another moment of sadness.” He whispered to himself, eyes which were previously gleaming with hope seeming to have quickly darkened into something a lot more sinister, something that many wouldn’t be able to recognise with a quick glance.

In his search bar, he typed: what are the side effects of Hanahaki?

Then, he waited as the results loaded and a thousand websites littered his screen. He knew which website to look for, the one he knew to be legitimate in its information and sourcing. 

-Definition: Hanahaki is an extremely rare disease, in which the person who has it coughs up flower petals, the cause being an unrequited love. The petals slowly turn to flowers, and the person will die a painful death, the vines wrapping around their lungs eventually causing the lungs to stop working, and the person to stop breathing, usually in their sleep.-

Matsuda’s eyes widened upon seeing this, not believing what he was seeing. He understood that Hanahaki was terrifying and tragic, yes, most humans seemed to understand that concept, however, he did not know of just how tragic it seemed. 

-Hanahaki has a lot of side effects which are not usually portrayed in the media due to a lack of research, knowledge or simple defiance to put it in. The side effects are as follows:  
\- The immune system will weaken, as if it has taken a very bad cold, and the person with Hanahaki will be more susceptible to common colds, flus, etc, even in a season which they are not usually caught in.  
\- Paling of the face. The face will slowly get paler, the minute flowers are produced instead of petals, the face will dramatically turn from pale, to white. As time goes on, the face will slowly whiten, until death, in which they will be as white as a lily.   
\- Emotions will rise and anxiety will be stronger. You will often feel sad and dead inside, as if there’s nothing left for you in life. You will be more fragile, and you will cry a lot.   
\- Your feelings for said person will become stronger, and you will be unable to function properly without knowing if they’re okay.  
\- Fatigue and exhaustion, fainting spells may happen.   
These are the main side effects that come with Hanahaki, a brutal disease that slowly kills you within emotionally and physically.-

Matsuda turned off the computer with a huff, breathing deeply and looking to the ceiling above him. How could he have been so unlucky as to catch such a tragic thing? How could he have so little luck that he of all people, the most optimistic person many knew, had to be inflicted with Hanahaki? He looked to the mirror sceptically and saw that his skin had already paled a shade, something that one wouldn’t notice unless they were looking for it. However, Matsuda was looking closely for it, therefore, he found it easily. He coughed up yet another petal and kicked it away roughly, standing up from where he was previously seated and laying onto his bed, still breathing deeply. 

He felt fatigued already, and it was only the second day. He attempted to smile and laughed bitterly when he found that he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to even fake a smile, perhaps it was because it was to himself, and he knew of how foolish it seemed? Perhaps it was because he knew he couldn’t lie to himself, despite the ability to lie to others?

He sighed sourly, looking to his desk, to his turned off computer. The computer which held many pages of torment and of shock, of devastation and of tragedy.

“Why must you do this to me?” He whispered quietly, hope fading as quickly as the time that passed by him.

It was maybe three weeks later, and the side effects had started to slowly immerse themselves within Matsuda, they had begun to slowly murder him. To anyone else, three weeks wouldn’t have been that long of a time, however, to him, it was painfully long, almost cruel. Everyday hurt more, not so much it was noticeable to others, but enough that it didn’t slip from Matsuda’s mind.

He found himself faking more smiles, faking more laughter, trying to form the energy to annoy someone just as he used to. No one had noticed that anything was out of place, that for Matsuda, everything was out of place. His life was meant to be a jigsaw puzzle that could easily be fitted together, but now? Those pieces no longer fit, they had changed shape to adjust to the horror of Hanahaki, and they no longer fit together. Matsuda found himself to be entangled in a mess, his mind was a horror even the most interested of psychologists shouldn’t want to explore.

The most noticeable was his emotions, most noticeable to him. He felt as if he was a dying rose, who’s petals were slowly falling with every challenge and every blow of wind that came in their direction.

“Matsuda-san! Tea please!” L snapped, seemingly focused on the images in front of him. He stood up weakly. 

“Yes Ryuzaki.” He said, walking to the kitchen with a goal set in mind. He was going to make the perfect cup of tea, to relieve himself of his current anxiety, even if it was only for a moment. He wanted something good to think about, something to make him happy, even for a minute. 

Once he handed the tea to L, he waited for a minute, counting the seconds in his head, no response. L took a sip of his tea, then looked back to the computer, only silence. Not even a glance. Matsuda pursed his lips tightly and walked away, a frown etched unnaturally onto plump lips. Somehow, the fact his efforts went unrecognised had frustrated him, something had changed in the dynamic between the two. Something had sharpened. Matsuda didn’t know what, however, for the rest of the day, something didn’t feel quite right. As if he didn’t know something he probably should’ve.

Later that night, Matsuda sat on the floor by his window, stroking the glass with the index finger of his right hand. He looked to the stars, something that was supposed to be a symbol of hope.

“Tell me stars, who do I love?” He didn’t expect a response, after all, stars couldn’t speak, however, he was saddened by the prospect, nonetheless.

For a while, he had been curious on who exactly was the object of his affections. Who did he feel so strongly to that he would die for them? Who affected him like none other?

“Who is my enigma? Who is the person I would die without? Who is the person who’s attention I would like the most? Who is the person who treats me like I’m the dirt on their shoe, yet I worship them as if they were a god from above?” Only one image came to Matsuda’s mind. Only a singular person came to mind. A sweet eating, dismissive heart snatching prodigy. Someone that could live without him, someone that he could live without. Love shouldn’t have been found with only a few spoken questions, love shouldn’t have been found that easily, however, fate loved to play cruel tricks on Matsuda, turning what was meant to be an epiphany to something tragic.

“Ryuzaki.” He gasped, his finger slipping from the window, onto the hardwood floor below.

“Ryuzaki…” He whispered, tears springing in his eyes at the mere thought. Suddenly, everything seemed so much clearer, everything seemed so much more prominent, his vision was no longer black and white, there was only him. This man was the person who was killing him slowly, strangling his heart and taunting it. Matsuda gasped, sobbing loudly, another petal falling from his lips. Then another, and another. Multiple petals fell to the floor around the sobbing man, creating a scene which would’ve been of great beauty if it weren’t for the tragedy surrounding it. 

Everything felt cold, without a doubt. He felt dismayed, ashamed to have discovered it so late. Why was L the reason for his torment? His bittersweet suffering?

“Goddammit L!” He shouted, hiding his face in his hands, sobbing into them, petals getting crushed in between his palms and mouth, then falling around him. The sight was one that no one should witness, even if they were wanting to make themselves cry. 

“I’m sorry…” He gasped, as if L was in front of him. “I love you.” He then choked on yet another petal, allowing himself to lay on the floor along with the black rose petals of his sweet torment. 

It was at Misa’s photoshoot in which the first flower fell.

“You can do it Misa-Misa!” He said loudly, giving her a weak thumbs up as she grinned back at him beautifully. As she continued to pose for photos, he coughed weakly, eyes widening when a black rose fell to the floor. Didn’t a fully grown flower mean he was close to dying? He didn’t have long left, he knew that. He knew that he didn’t have long left to live, and after the first flower, his face would pale dramatically, his emotions would rise, and he would grow weaker. 

Misa’s eyes also widened as she turned back to Matsuda, she had heard the cough, and she had seen the flower fall. Matsuda scampered to pick the flower back up, crushing it in his hands and placing it into his pocket before anyone but Misa noticed.

Misa took more photos and waved goodbye to her photographer before sprinting over to Matsuda in concern. Matsuda’s eyes widened when he saw the high heels sprinted in and attempted to stop her, but to no avail. He held out his hands to stop her, however, she ignored him and continued running anyway, high heels or not.

“Matsu.” She gasped out, panting for breath. She sat down in the chair next to Matsuda, looking to him with wide eyes. Misa’s worry was evident in her expression, panicking as she attempted to form words. 

“Did I see what I think I saw?” Matsuda’s eyes widened, looking from his pocket, to Misa. Had she seen the flower? His demise? 

“What did you see?” He asked weakly, unable to look into her teary eyes.

“The flower, you coughed it up. You can’t lie to me Matsu, I saw it.” Matsuda sighed quietly; she saw everything she needed to see. He couldn’t lie his way out,

“Yes, it was what you thought it was. It means I don’t have long left.” Misa’s eyes widened and she hugged Matsuda, who hugged her back gently. 

“Hanahaki must be cruel, hm?” Matsuda nodded in agreement, looking to the outside as he whispered, more to himself than to Misa.

“The cruellest.” Misa then pulled away, looking into his eyes with an underlying curiosity.

“Who?” Matsuda looked to the ground, almost ashamed, before looking back up to Misa. He knew he could trust her, Misa was his best friend, a person that didn’t abandon him, didn’t want to abandon him for someone better and richer.

“Ryuzaki.” Misa gasped, paling ever so slightly at the thought. ‘To be in love with him is to be in love with a robot!’ she thought. ‘There is no way this can be his fate, he’s my best friend, and he’s going to disappear because of something out of his control.’ 

“You need to tell him.” Matsuda’s eyes widened, shaking his head rapidly.

“Misa, I can’t. He’ll never love me, I’d rather die a silent, loveless death, than die hearing he doesn’t love me back in his own words.” His breaths became shallow, the vines around them tightening only slightly. Misa frowned; she could almost hear the vines tightening around him.

“You’re hurting, Touta.” She only ever used his first name when she was worried about him, usually she stuck with nicknames and endearments, they were a code, a way of telling how she was feeling. 

“You’re my best friend, please.” He shook his head, standing up from his seat weakly, looking back at her one last time before walking away. 

“I’m sorry Misa-Misa.” He whispered. “But it’s not that simple. Nothing is simple when the cause of your inevitable death is an unrequited love.”

It was as if an alarm had gone off one day, in the heads of everyone Matsuda knew, and had said: ‘Check on Matsuda’. People were starting to notice his weakening nature, how his cheeks no longer were pale, they were white. How his hands were constantly shaking, how unfocused he seemed to be. How he breathed as if it were his last breath, how he spoke hoarsely like they were the last words he may ever speak. Knowing the cruel ways of Hanahaki, Matsuda knew they may just be his last.

“Matsuda-san, are you sick?” Aizawa had asked him. Matsuda had shaken his head and had attempted to smile.

“I’m fine Aizawa-san!” He then turned away, exhaling weakly and continuing his work. What did they see now that they didn’t see before? Had Misa said something? Was it noticeable?

Matsuda turned to face L, who sat at his desk as always, facing the computer and watching the security footage. L was beautiful, in the most unconventional way, but then again, everything in correlation to Matsuda was irregular nowadays. The angst and sorrow had hit Matsuda as it always did when looking at L, the pain of knowing the person one loves without denial would never love them back was unlike any other. Matsuda had learnt that love had a different pain to many other things. He thought it was similar to many other things one would feel, however, it was not. Love’s pain was more subtle, yet more noticeable, as if one would be subconsciously looking for it. 

Matsuda attempted to resist the cough that was creeping up his throat, knowing very well the pain it would cause. As of late, more flowers had been growing, as had the constricting vines within. He had begun to throw them up, and instead of tragedy lacing the petals, they now included blood. One day, Matsuda knew very well that there would be more blood than flowers.

It seemed as if Matsuda had given up on hope, as if he was waiting for death to overcome him. 

Another cough, another blood sprinkled flower. 

“Matsu?” Matsuda ignored Misa and dropped the flower in the bin as he usually did, he was grateful that no one checked them, otherwise they’d only see black roses. He looked around the office and then to L, who’s wide eyes were now searching for papers. 

Matsuda would die for him, both in a literal and metaphorical sense. He would do anything to keep the man crouched on that chair content, even if it meant dying from black rose vines. Even if it meant his last breath could be at any time.

“Matsuda-san, tea please.” Matsuda stood up weakly on reflex when he heard that voice, the voice he loved with his entire heart. He walked to the kitchen and rested on the counter, breathing deeply as he waited for the water to boil.

He was feeling fatigued, and every time L looked in his direction or talked to him, he only became weaker. Every time he looked to L, his face was a little whiter, his heartfelt was a little more intense, his emotions were a little darker. Every glance mattered. Every breath was a struggle, every move had effort which shouldn’t have been needed. As soon as he finished the tea, he felt himself walking as if someone had controlled him to do so against his will. In a moment of unbalance, he gripped L’s desk weakly and gave him his tea. He let go of the table, stepped back, and stumbled backwards.

First, he saw white, then he saw black, the world around him giving out as he fainted into steady arms. Matsuda was obliviously unaware to the people crowding around him, to the concern L held, to the knowing dread Misa felt. L placed him onto the couch, ordering the others away as he observed Matsuda. 

Matsuda looked like from an angel above as he laid, passed out on the couch. Somehow, he seemed to have already gone to heaven, yet was still struggling to breathe in front of him. Matsuda’s face was white, a deadly white, contributing to the aura he had around him. His lips were slightly parted and his hands laid on his chest, interlocked, as if he was in a coffin. 

After a few minutes, Matsuda’s eyes fluttered open and his eyes widened when he found himself to be laying on the couch. He coughed up yet another flower and twirled it idly for a few seconds before throwing it away. After all, why should that flower be any more significant than others? They all resembled the same thing; they were all a symbol of tragedy.   
L’s eyes widened when he had seen the flower fall from Matsuda’s lips. How? The question haunted L’s mind as he watched Matsuda more intensely, taking notes of his actions. L felt strongly towards Matsuda, he felt familiarity, he felt safety and security. With others, everything was a guessing game, of them attempting to guess his intentions and trying to make a game out of him. However, with Matsuda, things weren’t a game. They were simple, they were charming. There was no need to second guess himself, Matsuda was honest, he was true to himself and others. However, he still felt as if he wasn’t good enough for Matsuda. Surely, Matsuda deserved someone who was on the same level morally?

“Matsuda-san?” Matsuda slowly turned around, feeling a tightening in his chest when he saw wide, now expressive eyes. They showed sadness, pure sadness, not even their underlying tone of curiosity they sometimes held. 

“Hanahaki.” L simply stated. Matsuda nodded weakly, as he stared into black eyes, he felt everything tighten, he felt the flowers pool in his stomach, ready to be thrown up along with the blood that stained them of their beauty. 

“I’m sorry.” Was all Matsuda managed, his voice rasped and heavy. L looked into Matsuda’s eyes, thumb going to his mouth nervously. Who had rejected Matsuda to the point in which he felt this unbearable pain?

“Who?” L asked, knowing it was likely that it was someone within the task force, an 88% chance. With Hanahaki, there were no such things as maybes. Much like with Matsuda, majority of things were yes or no. Was he to die? Yes. If he was loved in return, would he live? Yes. Things were certain, for best or for worse. There was no maybes. Only certainty and searching. 

Matsuda didn’t know what to say, but as he felt the flowers fluttering up, so slowly it hurt, he knew that this was his end, death or happy ending, either way, it was the closing of a book or a chapter. 

Perhaps, he did have some hope left in him, as he was growing weaker, as he was fading away? Matsuda wasn’t one to give up hope entirely forever, after all.

“You.” L’s eyes widened and his breath had hitched. Matsuda was perhaps the only person who could render him speechless, breathless and thoughtless. To be loved back, was perhaps one of the most euphoric feelings a person could feel, if said person wasn’t suffering with Hanahaki at your expense.

“I…” Matsuda started, his eyes widening as he felt L’s lips on his. Slowly, his eyes closed and he leaned into it, allowing himself to enjoy it whilst he could. He could feel the pressure on his lungs loosening, he could feel the flowers disintegrating. To be loved back, was perhaps the most euphoric feeling one could feel, especially to those with Hanahaki who had wrongfully given up on hope. 

L parted first, opening his eyes, not moving beyond that. Matsuda’s breath hitched at the sight of those eyes so close to his own, however, it wasn’t associated with the vines tightening, nor the sadness clouding his mind. It was associated with the pure happiness he felt. 

L couldn’t bring himself to say anything, for he was too busy staring into the shining eyes of Matsuda Touta.

“You… love me back? But you treat me like shit?” Was all he could say, L turning away with shame at the second part. 

“That was my fault. I thought that perhaps… if I would follow the logic of ‘if you like someone, make fun of them’, I would get your attention. Clearly I had it before then.” Matsuda nearly giggled at that, eyes widening in curious glee. 

“You? Followed an elementary school trope? I can’t believe that!” L rolled his eyes, his cheeks turning a rosy pink. He rarely ever felt flustered, and Matsuda rarely saw it, however, he found that he quite liked the look on L. 

Matsuda was now in a euphoria he had never experienced before, the euphoria of loving and being loved back was a treasure that those who hadn’t experienced it would never understand. Matsuda now knew that he was wrong to give up on hope, which had saved him so many times before. He knew that in the end, if you don’t take the chance, it will most likely never happen. Perhaps he learnt these lessons a little too late, however, in the end, they got him to the result he was hoping for.

**Author's Note:**

> Another Lawtsuda oneshot, finally! I've been waiting to do this one for quite a bit, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> (Also, in the comments below, please do tell me what was your favourite sentence/quote, I'd love to hear it!)


End file.
